Chapter 7
Since that day, Rosalyn had thought of the Duke of Windberg several more times. It wasn’t for any grand reason or specific occasion. A morning newspaper was delivered to Fairfield House every day, and she was always the third to claim it after her father and younger brother had finished reading. It was because the paper occasionally featured articles about the Duke.
His name was mentioned mostly in the business section, in articles covering the trends of the ducal family’s enterprises. Sometimes, reports of his support for local education and various cultural facilities appeared in the social section. There were even times when his photograph was included. It was a picture Rosalyn had seen before.
The photograph, released by the ducal house about three years ago when his succession was announced, still frequently appeared in print. He was dressed in formal ducal attire, standing beneath the eagle crest of the Glan family. He wore the badges and sashes symbolizing the thirteen titles he held. Rosalyn would often peer closely at the gaze of the man standing at an angle, looking away from the camera—at those eyes, which possessed a thoroughly aristocratic indifference.
Meanwhile, the days passed and spring deepened. Her seedlings grew rapidly, preparing to face the outside world, and the soil in the kitchen garden became sufficiently soft and warm. In the Viscount’s garden, irises began to bloom after the hyacinths and tulips. It was the season when peony buds were ripening beautifully.
And this morning, Rosalyn finally decided it was time to transplant the carefully tended seedlings into the open ground.
“Sister, why exactly do I have to do this?”
“Because gardening is a refinement a lady must possess. You can learn diligence and sincerity. And by caring for fragile plants, you cultivate compassion.”
“Do I really have to learn things like that?”
“Yes. You, especially, need to learn them.”
Rosalyn spoke firmly as she handed over an extra pair of gardening gloves. Andreana pouted, yet she didn’t seem to truly mind. She took the gloves without further complaint, and even though she hadn’t been told to yet, she was already wearing a straw hat.
Rosalyn smiled, put on her own hat and gloves, and gathered her trowel. Wearing a wool dress suited for garden work with an apron tied over it, she began moving the pots from the greenhouse to the kitchen garden with her sister. Since the pots were small and the distance was short, it wasn’t strenuous work.
She didn’t accept help from the gardeners or laborers for the kitchen garden. Cultivating this small patch of land was her personal achievement. Rosalyn wanted to harvest entirely by her own strength. Of course, excluding Andreana’s help, which wasn’t much of a contribution.
“Sister, you would have been wonderful even if you’d been born a farmer’s daughter.”
“Farming is hard work. This is just a hobby.”
“You’re probably the only noble lady who grows vegetables as a hobby. But why spinach, tomatoes, and cucumbers, of all things?”
“Because they’re easy to grow and they taste good. I should grow them with care and enjoy eating them.”
“What? That’s so cruel! Didn’t you say I should learn compassion?”
When Andreana recoiled in horror, Rosalyn giggled. Crouched in the kitchen garden with soil on her shoes, she chuckled like a young girl while facing her sister.
The spring sun shone down warmly, and the scent of the earth was fresh. Her sister and the seedlings were all lovely and sturdy. It was a day that made her hum naturally, as everything felt perfect.
If an unexpected visitor hadn’t appeared, it truly could have been a perfect spring day.
“What are you two doing here?”
At the voice ringing out behind them, the sisters turned their heads simultaneously.
“Aunt? How are you… What brings you here?”
“They told me you were in the back garden, so I thought you were taking a stroll, but what on earth are you doing? Have you fired the gardener?”
“I’m gardening. I made a little kitchen garden for a pastime, and some vegetables—”
“Never mind the vegetables, come out at once. This is no time to be doing this.”
Baroness Elwood appeared abruptly, almost to the point of rudeness, unable to hide her impatience. It was very unladylike behavior, and thus Rosalyn could tell that something urgent or important enough for her aunt to abandon her dignity had occurred.
“A ball is being held at Maxville.”
It was truly unexpected, sudden news.
“They’re looking for a bride for the Duke. A Duchess of Windberg!”
Rosalyn could only blink at the words that rushed in without warning. She couldn’t think of how to react. All she noticed was that the lace parasol her aunt held seemed exceptionally white today.
“Sister, did you hear that? Is it true, Aunt? The Duke is getting married?”
“Of course. The entire social circles are in an uproar. We were the only ones kept in the dark.”
“Oh, why does it have to be this year? I could have gone the year after next!”
“Look at this cheeky girl. Don’t worry. Once your sister becomes the Duchess, the best marriage prospects will be lining up for you as well.”
The Baroness and Andreana looked as if they might embrace and scream with joy. It was as if Rosalyn had already received a proposal from the Duke.
“But Aunt, he is…”
“Rose. Do you have a dress to wear?”
The Baroness cut her off ruthlessly. Then, with a look that said she knew exactly what question Rosalyn had swallowed and a determination not to let her utter a word about it, she continued.
“I heard the invitations went out last month. They said even young ladies who didn’t receive one were sent new ones if they wrote a letter. To think such a thing happened while I was stuck at home for weeks with a cold—it nearly turned into a disaster.”
“Were you ill? I did think you looked a bit thin. Are you fully recovered?”
“I’m fine now. And that’s not what’s important. Didn’t I hurry to send a letter to the Duke’s mansion as soon as I heard the news last week? I was worried it might be too late, but fortunately, an invitation arrived at our house yesterday.”
“What a relief.” Praising herself with satisfaction, the noblewoman hurried her nieces.
“So let’s go inside. Rose, show me your evening gowns. My goodness, the banquet is next week, so there’s no time to have a new one made. What shall we do? All the other ladies will be wearing brand-new dresses.”
The Baroness poured out her concerns with a face that looked distressed to death. However, her face was brimming with a more intense vitality than ever before. Rosalyn looked at her aunt’s face, filled with a resolve she had never seen before, with a sense of bewilderment.
A ball was being held. At Maxville.
A banquet to find a Duchess.
Unconsciously, she recalled the Duke’s face. She thought of his classic jawline, his jet-black curly hair, and his green eyes.
The Duke of Windberg. The man who had stood in his own kingdom, detached from her.
Only then did her heart begin to race a little.
The history of the Duke’s mansion is said to be approximately eight hundred years old. It was where the Glan dynasty of the Yelena Kingdom, which ruled the ancient North, had built a queen’s summer palace. A pillar that was part of that palace still remained on the estate grounds. Scholars wishing to see that relic, known as ‘The First Pillar,’ occasionally requested to visit the ducal residence.
However, that was merely the mansion’s origin; the entire facility was not that old. The stone buildings, following the unique architectural style of the North, retained an antique elegance, but alongside old items like gold-plated candlesticks and oil lamps, they also featured the latest facilities such as gas lights, boilers, and radiators.
That fusion of tradition and cutting-edge technology, the harmony of the old and the new, always left a deep impression on visitors.
“My word, look at that statue. It’s truly magnificent.”
Baroness Elwood could not stop marveling from the moment they entered Maxville. It was understandable, as entering the Duke’s mansion was a very rare opportunity for lower-ranking nobles like them. Unless one was an exceptional politician or a tycoon, it almost never happened.
There are over a hundred hereditary noble families within the Empire. There is a distinct difference between lower-ranking nobles below the rank of Viscount and high-ranking nobles above the rank of Earl. Furthermore, a Duke is a title equivalent to royalty; excluding the princes, there are only four hereditary Dukes in the Empire. Thus, the ball was worth attending just for the experience of visiting Maxville.
“It really is, Aunt. I like those gold-plated candlesticks.”
“Ask His Grace to give them to you.”
“Shall I? I might just try asking him if I see him.”
“You can just receive them as a wedding gift.”
The Baroness played along with her niece’s joke. It was the same for Rosalyn; it was difficult for her to suppress the excitement and anticipation she felt after a long time.
